Free My Vampire Lover by J. P. Bowie

flicked tentatively at the blood. It tasted nice, I thought with surprise. I don't know what I had expected. The only blood I'd ever tasted before had been my own when I sucked on a paper cut or something.
    He pressed his wrist against my lips.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "You must drink."
I put my lips over the wound he had inflicted upon himself for my sake. I lapped at the blood that spilled onto my 76
My Vampire Lover
by J. P. Bowie
tongue. It was rich and sweet, and it warmed me inside as it flowed down my throat. I could almost feel it being absorbed into my tissues, burning its way into my being, changing me, and bringing me immortality.
    "Enough now," he murmured, gently pulling away from me.
"Thank you," I gasped.
He took my face between his hands and kissed me. "Look at me, Ron," he whispered. "Look into my eyes, into my soul, and see it filled with love for you."
     
"Oh, Jean-Claude." His sweet words had brought me to tears. "I love you, too," I murmured, choking on a sob. I laid my head on his chest and made a silent vow—no one was going to take this man from me—no one!
     
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77

Chapter Five
By the time I awoke, back in my apartment, the following morning, I had thought of several different plans of action, but the one that appealed the most was total confrontation with Delano. I wanted to get in his face and tell him to back off—or else!
    Now that I knew his son was gay, I figured I could somehow find a way to get through Delano's protective strongmen. It didn't take me long to find out that Delano preached his litany of intolerance at the Church of Abiding Truth in Pasadena, and it being Sunday morning, what better way to spend my time than listening to a fire and brimstone sermon aimed at ridding the world of all gayness? I knew what I planned would royally piss off JeanClaude, but what he didn't know wasn't going to kill him, right?
Dressing down seemed like a good idea, so I fished out a white shirt, grey tie and black slacks from my closet, and appropriately attired for church going, I hopped in my trusty Honda Civic and headed for Pasadena.
     
Delano's church was a splendid sight. Tall spires and faux marble arches caught my eye as I drove into the crowded parking lot. Greeters at the doors murmured blessings as I passed into the cavernous interior decorated in early-ugly—
    tons of gold leaf and red velvet—but supplied with really comfortable cushioned pews.
I looked around at the congregation and figured the average age to be upward of fifty. The nice looking people, 78
My Vampire Lover
by J. P. Bowie
chatting amiably amongst themselves, made me wonder why on earth they would want to listen to the hateful ranting of a madman. One or two even smiled across at me—if they only knew!
    I spotted Jerry Junior as he and his old man appeared from behind a red velvet curtain. He looked like a younger version of his dear old dad, with the same great head of hair, only his was blond and highlighted, while his dad's was a startling white. Father and son approached the golden altar, made obeisance in front of the golden cross, then Junior sat on a golden chair while Senior turned to face his adoring fans.
"Praise Jesus!" he exclaimed, holding his hands to the heavens.
    "Praise Jesus!" the congregation clamoured and we were off. My eyes remained riveted on young Jerry as his father rambled on about sinners and salvation. He kept a small smile plastered on his cute face most of the time, but once in a while, he would frown as though he remembered something—
something unpleasant. At one point, we made eye contact, and I smiled ... shyly, then looked away as though embarrassed. When I looked his way again, he was staring at me. I dropped my gaze from his, then looked up again quickly. He smiled. I smiled. And that was that.
    Delano's sermon finally finished with him shouting to Jesus to save all sinners—and punish all sodomites. In Delano's world, there was no